


spilled coffee and stolen hearts

by thelabours



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, First Meetings, M/M, a minor injury but dw it isn't graphic, and as the first person to write for this ship i feel like dr frankenstein, i love that shirabu gets bamboozled by identical twins like same ??? im bad at faces, keiji loves atsumu but literally no one else does, no dialogue we fic like men, one (1) dense shirabu to go pls, there's background akamiya because 1 rarepair wasn't enough, this ship now has an official tag, very mushy because what else can i really write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:29:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelabours/pseuds/thelabours
Summary: in which shirabu lives a monotonous life hating on coffee and miya atsumu until one day his life decides to upgrade itself.





	spilled coffee and stolen hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beewachan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beewachan/gifts).



> *screams about this fic for 8 years*
> 
> *takes 22 centuries to finish*
> 
> beewa chan we've done it it has an official tag aaaa osashira is _real_

Shirabu likes to think he’s a no-nonsense kind of a guy. Therefore, he won’t bullshit you when you come into The Coffee House and ask for the “best drink”. Spoiler: there _is_ no “best drink”. All the drinks suck. He’s a tea person.

He won’t lie, he doesn’t exactly _love_ his job. It takes up nearly the whole day and when he gets home, he only has just enough time to study, make dinner, and fall asleep (not necessarily in that order). He has no life outside of university and The Coffee House through no fault of his job. He has, like, three friends who he sees maybe once a month if he’s lucky because they’re 1) all busy and 2) out there, _achieving_ things while he slaves away at the coffee maker.

Most of his co-workers are alright, he thinks. Hinata is a little too bright and chirpy in the mornings, Kuroo looks like he could do with a little meet-and-greet with a hairbrush, and Aone makes great sweet buns. He lets Shirabu take home a couple if there are extras, sometimes.

The real problem arises on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Those are the days Miya Atsumu (or, Majorly Annoying, as Shirabu calls him in his head) works with Shirabu to make ridiculously complicated drinks for equally ridiculous prices. Shirabu could’ve been jailed for manslaughter by now had Miya Atsumu not been completely and irrevocably in love with one of Shirabu’s aforementioned three friends—Akaashi Keiji—who has, thus far, not stepped foot in The Coffee House, for reasons Shirabu feels like he could sympathise with.

Thus is the routine of one Shirabu Kenjirou, 21, college student, majoring in Wanting To Nap Forever and Economics. He can’t say he hates it but it’s nothing to write home about. His phone calls with his mother all sound the same.

(“Have you been eating well?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“How is University?”

“Fine.”

“Come visit soon.”

“Yes, Mom.”)

On Wednesdays, Shirabu opens the café. Miya joins him (usually an hour late) and demands all of Shirabu’s attention. It might seem like fun, but throwing around insults costs energy and Shirabu is always outrageously low on that.

One (not so) fine Wednesday morning, Shirabu had battled his bedhead, the urge to stay in bed, and the cold to get to work. He turns around the corner (he’s trying his best to stay dry, there’s a fine drizzle. The sky is a cool, steel grey and Shirabu can practically smell the approaching winter) and spots a figure, huddled under the little mint green awning of The Coffee House. 

_I wonder who it is._

Shirabu picks up his speed and to his surprise, for once in his stupid life, Miya Atsumu had come to work on time.

Miya looks at him, blinking slowly.

“Move,” orders Shirabu. He’s already a _minute_ late.

Surprisingly, Miya complies.

A turn of the key and a click later, they’re inside, safe and warm, surrounded by the lingering smell of coffee. Shirabu walks into the room labelled “STAFF ONLY” and Miya, who has, so far, not said a word, follows him. They take their coats off and Shirabu hands Miya his apron. 

Then, they get to work.

“Scrub the counter. I’ll deal with the coffee maker.” Has Shirabu mentioned he dislikes coffee? He dislikes coffeemakers a little more than that. They fall somewhere between Miya Atsumu and lukewarm tea. They take ages to clean and their maintenance requires a certain level of skill which Shirabu, unfortunately, possesses. Hinata, their regular cashier, isn’t allowed _anywhere near_ it.

So far, they’ve been working in near silence, save for the odd squeaks of the rag against the counter and the hissing of steam from where Shirabu is trying to get the stupid machine to work properly. He thinks there’s something a little off about Miya today. What is it? _Ah_ , he hasn’t made a single dick joke yet. He decides to say something.

“Your hair looks less like a dead rat today. How’d you get the bleach out?”

Shirabu isn’t really expecting an answer so it surprises him when Miya answers (softly! Miraculous, really. He’s going to have to ask Keiji what’s up).

“There’s no bleach in my hair.”

There we are, Shirabu thinks. Soft voice or not, Miya was Miya and, therefore, annoying. His words make no sense and Shirabu believes it is too early for Miya’s word games. He lets it pass. Just this once.

“Whatever. Make sure you get that spot behind the bottles.”

* * *

Shirabu is also in the habit of cursing under his breath at customers who order elaborate drinks.

“Old hag, why do you need three pumps of fucking caramel, you’re going to get cavities and die,” he mumbles, aggressively pumping caramel into the mug and passing it on to Miya to fill it with coffee, like always.

Except Miya is a _dick_ and wants to _waste his time_ and just stands and stares at the coffee maker like he was born yesterday.

It’s testing Shirabu’s patience because not only is Miya being completely useless but he’s also managed to break a mug.

It’s testing Shirabu’s patience so much that he's resorted to tugging on the fringe in front of his eyes. He hisses, “make the coffee, idiot. Just press the goddamn button.”

If this were an exam, Shirabu’s patience would’ve failed miserably.

Three minutes, a spilt cup of coffee, and a second mess later, Shirabu and Miya are standing in the “STAFF ONLY” room once again, getting yelled at by Nametsu, the manager. Of whom Shirabu is legitimately afraid. Not that he’d say it out loud because he’s afraid she’d elbow him hard enough for his guts to pop out his bum.

“Take a break, you two. Shirabu, teach him how to use the coffeemaker. Clean up the spill. Another mess and I’ll fire both of you. Got it?” She glares at them and leaves without waiting for an answer.

Shirabu waits for her to leave before wordlessly fetching the mop and shoving it at Miya. He’s about to leave to go take his apron off and maybe eat something (he’s starving), he hears a mellow “sorry” from behind him. He turns around, wide-eyed for a second.

Miya’s face isn’t cocky or mean. _A first _, thinks Shirabu.__

__He turns around and leaves and doesn’t think about Miya’s pretty eyes and the genuine expression on his face. He _doesn’t.__ _

__Shirabu takes his apron off and in his frustration and trying not to think, he manages to step right into Miya’s coffee puddle. With a squawk, he tries to reach out and hold onto something but everything is too far away and his hands claw the air in futility. Shirabu can see his life flash before his eyes. He awaits the inevitable. He awaits the impact. He awaits death._ _

__But it doesn’t come._ _

__He opens his eyes and comes face to face with Miya, who’s holding him tightly by the waist. Shirabu’s been gay his whole life and has never really had a profound moment in which he’s assessed his sexuality but in that very second, looking into Miya’s soft brown eyes, he can tell you that he is, in fact, gay as hell._ _

__They stay like that for a few seconds until Shirabu realises Miya’s blushing and stands up, slapping his hands away, his ears burning._ _

__“Clean up this mess,” he says._ _

__“This is all your fault,” he says._ _

__“You have really long eyelashes,” he doesn’t say. But he wants to. Very much._ _

__

* * *

__

__“Why don’t you remember how to use the coffeemaker? It’s only been a week since you were last here,” Shirabu grumbles as he wipes the mug they’re going to use. He sets it down under the spout._ _

__“Sorry,” is the only response he gets._ _

__“Quit apologising. It’s creeping me out.” Shirabu grumbles a little more._ _

__“No, I…really mean it. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble too. Thank you for teaching me.” Miya is holding one of Shirabu’s hands in both of his own. In light of recent developments, what follows is only natural._ _

__Shirabu snatches his hand back, blushing furiously, and knocks the mug—which is now full of steaming coffee—over. His hand is numb with pain and for a second Shirabu sincerely wonders if cutting his arm off would make the pain go away._ _

__Thankfully, it is this moment Kuroo chooses to come in for his shift. Kuroo’s eye (the one not covered by his fringe) widens and he hastens over to help._ _

__He turns the tap on and instructs Shirabu to keep his hand under the steady stream of water while he goes to fetch the first-aid kit. Almost dizzy with pain, Shirabu notes that Kuroo probably thinks quickly in emergency situations because he has to think of new excuses every time people ask him why his hair looks the way it does._ _

__After all was said and done, Shirabu’s burn looked a lot worse than it felt. He could move his hand just fine (through misery and pain, but that's just how Shirabu rolled) but Miya still helps him put his coat on and offers to hold his umbrella on the way home. Shirabu politely declines and the entire walk to his apartment he wonders about Miya’s crestfallen face._ _

__In truth, Shirabu didn’t think he could hold it in to ask Miya to hold his hand instead of the umbrella._ _

__Once he’s home, Shirabu falls into bed, curled up between two pillows and a quilt. He’s exhausted. He muses briefly about Miya’s cute little blush and how nice he was today._ _

_Wait a second._

_Cute?_

__Shirabu sits up immediately and reaches out for his phone._ _

__“Where is it? Keiji, Keiji, _Keiji_ …there it is.” He presses down on the contact and opens up a new message from Akaashi. _ _

Keiji: _hey I heard you got injured at work are you ok?_

Me: Hey, I’m fine. I have a question.

Keiji replies within seconds. 

_Keiji: _yeah go ahead_ _

__Me: So if hypothetically someone has a crush on Atsumu what would you do?_ _

__Keiji: _make sure that person is me__ _

__Me: I meant other than you -.-_ _

_Keiji: _kill them probably I mean ive never had to deal with stuff like this because atsumu doesn’t give a fuck about his fan club_ _

_Me: He’s filth_

Keiji: _i know but at least hes upfront about his filth_

Shirabu doesn’t sleep easy that night. He keeps dreaming about perfect brown eyes and a soft voice caressing his entire being. He wakes up with a thin sheen of sweat over his forehead and his hand throbbing dully. He’s forgotten to change the bandages. 

* * *

__He gets to work on time and suffers through the rounds of ‘poor Shirabu-kun, are you alright now?’ from his co-workers, his regulars, and even Aone spares him an extra sweet bun. Shirabu’s manning the cash register today because his hand hurts and he couldn’t lift a cup if he tried._ _

__Then, Miya Atsumu makes an appearance in all his bleached glory._ _

__“Hey Kenjirou-kun, missed me much?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__Shirabu tunes out the pointless whining behind him until: “So, I heard you burnt your hand, huh. Must’ve been one _flaming_ dick.” He turns around to see Miya give him an exaggerated wink. Shirabu’s usual urge to punch him suddenly increases tenfold._ _

__“What do you mean? You were the cause of it, you dolt,” he spits, wondering if yesterday was just a dream._ _

__“What? I didn’t come in yesterday.”_ _

__“Uh, no. You did and made a fucking mess, as usual.”_ _

__“What the fuck do you mean ‘as usual’? I had to get my roots touched up, so I sent in my brother. Didn’t he tell you?”_ _

__Shirabu’s mind goes slack as he takes in Miya’s newly bleached hair. He remembers yesterday’s Miya’s words: “there’s no bleach in my hair.”_ _

__“What the fuck,” he says._ _

__“I—uh, I may have forgotten to introduce myself,” a new person says. Shirabu and Miya—no, Atsumu—look up to see yesterday’s Miya—what was his name?_ _

__“Hey, bro, come to take over my shift today, too?” Atsumu grins at Miya 2.0._ _

__Miya 2.0, who’s looking at Shirabu, says yes._ _

__Shirabu, who's just standing there, mumbles something along the lines of ‘what the fuck’._ _

__“I’m Miya Osamu,” Miya 2.0 offers._ _

__“I’m going home,” Shirabu responds and sprints to the trusty “STAFF ONLY” room._ _

__Atsumu turns to his brother and raises an eyebrow. “Did something happen yesterday?”_ _

__“A tragedy.”_ _

__“Oh yeah?”_ _

__“Yeah. I forgot to tell him it wasn’t you and now he hates me.”_ _

__“He doesn’t _hate me_. He’s gonna love you.”_ _

__“He calls you Majorly Annoying. I agree.”_ _

__“Stop treating me like a child.”_ _

__“I will when you stop acting like one.”_ _

__Shirabu has been listening behind closed doors with his heart in his throat. His crush on Miya 2.0— _Osamu_ —had skyrocketed. _ _

__His train of thought is interrupted by a knock-knock at the door._ _

__“Shirabu-san? It’s uh, it’s me, Miya. I mean, Miya Osamu. I just wanted to apologise for yesterday. I, uh. I’ve left some flowers with Atsumu. Please take them from him, he could eat them and die. I don’t really care, but my mum would probably be a little upset. Maybe. I’d have to go to jail for homicide. I haven’t graduated from university yet, so. Uh. I’m rambling now. Okay, I’m gonna stop.”_ _

__Osamu stares at the door for a second. His face is unreadable to most hypothetical people in the empty hallway save for Atsumu, who can tell Osamu is upset. He walks him out._ _

__“Hey, if he doesn’t give you a chance, maybe he isn’t as bad as I thought he was.”_ _

__“Is this payback for the ‘THIS IS A NO MIYA ATSUMU ZONE’ sign I painted for you.”_ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__Osamu sighs. He hadn’t expected anything from today. So why was he feeling so…disappointed? He pulls his scarf tighter sound his neck and pulls at the ‘push’ door. Why is he stalling?_ _

__“Wait!”_ _

__Osamu turns. He waits._ _

__“I’ll help you murder Atsumu but you have to take me out to dinner first.”_ _

__Atsumu would’ve been offended and whined until next year but he swears Osamu smiles that special smile he wears only when they pull off a quick or when he’s scratching their mum’s cat. Who kind of looks like Shirabu, now that Atsumu takes a second to compare them. No wonder the cat hissed and scratched at him whenever he got too close._ _

__“Of course. Can I pick you up at 7, tomorrow?”_ _

__“Sure.”_ _

__“‘Tsumu, give him my number. Do it or else I’ll tell mum who broke her favourite china plate.” And with that, Osamu leaves, leaving a flushed Shirabu and a frustrated Atsumu in his wake._ _

__The Coffee House is usually a bustling establishment; the patrons are a cheery bunch (except Kyoutani, but Shirabu can empathise because he, too, knows what kind of an asshole Yahaba Shigeru is). So forgive Shirabu if it takes him a hot minute to realise that this entire exchange had transpired in front of most of his regulars and the management._ _

__He is so close to heading back to the “STAFF ONLY” room once again. Rather cathartic, that. Maybe he should get one for his apartment._ _

__“Way to go Kenjirou!” Nishinoya (one of Shirabu’s regulars) yells. And so, The Coffee House erupts in glee, and Shirabu’s bathed in a pink glow and smiling a smile so wide, his cheeks are sure to hurt._ _

* * *

Keiji: _so I cannot believe_

Me: Please let me live 

Keiji: _no_

Me: Worth asking. 

Keiji: _does that mean I can talk to u about tsumu and u can finally agree_

Me: I’m blocking you. 

Keiji: _he's with u isnt he_

__Me: Yeah_ _

Keiji: _as the kids say, i want deets_

__Shirabu locks his phone, deciding to put off blocking Keiji a little longer, and turns back to his...boyfriend? After everything, it still feels weird to say. A good weird, though._ _

__Osamu's looking at him with an unreadable expression._ _

__"What?"_ _

__Osamu's mouth quirks up._ _

__"Can I kiss you?"_ _

__Shirabu responds with one of his own._ _

**Author's Note:**

> hello come talk about osashira i am Hungry For More Souls
> 
> hit me (up) on my tumblr @iceandbrimstone or my twitter @kirikamis (or like leave a comment so i know u like osashira too ????? or just want to punch miya atsumu's pretty face????)
> 
> i would link stuff but it's late and i want to sleep pls go read the other osashira fics in the tag aaaaa
> 
> anyway thank u to beewa chan for the fic title because the one before this was Ugly (tm) hhhh when will i Learn


End file.
